


Full Moon

by janeaustenfangirl



Series: October Writing Challenge 2020 [6]
Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, everything is written as consensual, not technically smut just kissing, only because of draculas influential powers tho, potential tw for mentions of religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26925313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janeaustenfangirl/pseuds/janeaustenfangirl
Summary: "You said I killed you -- haunt me then." ~ Emily Bronte
Relationships: Count Dracula/Abraham Van Helsing
Series: October Writing Challenge 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949926
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	Full Moon

**Author's Note:**

> No specific date for this. Setting is a forest.

He hated Count Dracula. 

He hated how the man had seemed to infiltrate his very soul. He had wrapped himself up in his heart, curled himself around his intestines. The Count had infested him like a million maggots, eating away at the festering corpse of a once respectable professor and physician. 

Every single one of his waking moments -- and some of his sleeping ones, too -- was spent thinking of  _ him _ . Usually, it was the typical sort of thing, the expected sort of thing: how to kill him. The most effective ways. The most practical ways. The easiest ways. The most satisfying ways. 

But, sometimes...

Sometimes, his thoughts drifted...elsewhere. Usually, it would only last a moment. He dare not entertain some of those ideas for more than a moment, but it was always enough to leave him with a white, hot shame and a sinking, slimy feeling in his gut. Most times, he even considered doing confessional for it, but that would involve either explaining, well, everything, which could potentially put more people at risk, or committing a lie by omission, and neither one was exactly ideal. So he prayed for forgiveness in the secrecy of his own home, and hoped God understood. 

Rotting leaves, and dead twigs crunched under his feet. He looked up at the trees towering above him, autumnally naked. The gray branches writhed in the wind, against the feculent black sky, unlit by any stars, but instead only a moon, the color of pus. He couldn’t help but notice how ugly the full moon looked. 

He thought the walk was doing him good, though, even on such a night. The wind was cold, but refreshing, like drinking a cool glass of water on a particularly hot day. Already he was feeling better. Less angry. 

Angry. Sure. That was all he was feeling. 

Only angry. 

He slumped back against a tree. The solidity of the thick trunk behind his back was comforting, oddly reassuring when everything in his life had been so tumultuous as of late. It hadn’t even been three whole months since he had been teaching as a professor at the University of Amsterdam. Now he was leading the fight against an evil vampire warlord, with whom he was oddly obsessed, and who was oddly obsessed with him right back. 

The thought made his stomach churn. 

He watched the branches in the wind, enjoying the odd little dance they did, how they recoiled from each other and squirmed as if in pain. He couldn’t say how long he had watched them do that, but it couldn’t have been more than three or four minutes before everything just...stopped. Abruptly, and without reason. He took a few unsteady steps forward, away from the tree. 

The wind had stopped blowing. Everything became very still, from the branches over top, to the foliage on the ground -- he didn’t even hear any animals scurrying about. The din of silence became overwhelming, until,

“Professor?” someone said, from nowhere and everywhere all at once, in an almost amused tone. 

“Count Dracula,” he replied. He wasn’t certain where to look, because he couldn’t tell where Count Dracula was. 

“What are you doing here?” Dracula asked, right behind him now, nearly whispering in his ear. He could feel the Count’s fetid breath on his neck, and an icy cold hand on his shoulder, which sent a shiver down his spine despite the layers of clothing between his skin and Dracula’s. He turned to face the Count. His pale face shone brighter than the moon. And those eyes...

“I ought to ask the same of you, I think,” the Professor said. 

“I’m merely enjoying my night, mein herr.” The Professor narrowed his eyes at the German term. “I’m assuming you do, too?” 

He didn’t respond, merely stared on. 

“You know, we’ve got a lot in common, Bram,” Dracula said. He positively bristled at the use of not only his first name, but a  _ nick _ name. A nickname that was only used by his wife. 

Though, on second thought, he didn’t mind how his name sounded on Dracula’s tongue, so he opted to ignore it. For now. 

“Oh? And what do we have in common?” Van Helsing asked instead. Playing into it might be interesting -- and might even show him something about his enemy. That could never be a bad thing, really. 

“Well, for starters -- and perhaps most obviously -- we’re both very learned men. I’m assuming you recall how I was a great alchemist in my time?” 

Van Helsing chuckled slightly. This seemed to displease Dracula. 

“Hardly a scientific pursuit,” Van Helsing remarked. Dracula took a step forward and grabbed Van Helsing by the chin, effectively shutting him up. 

“It was the most advanced science of my day,” Dracula remarked coldly. He dropped his hand from Van Helsing’s face. “And I was one of the forerunners in the field. Much like you, in your study of obscure diseases. And both of us, polymaths, drinking knowledge with pleasure and vivacity.” 

“I think you drink more blood with pleasure and vivacity, now.” 

“Not true, friend, not true! You’ve mistaken me for a beast. I’ve kept much of my brain from my life. And my ambition -- another one of our similarities. We are ambitious men, who know what we want and exactly how to get it. Oh, Abraham Van Helsing, we could be great together.” 

“Are you proposing an alliance?” he asked, shocked and mildly horrified at the very thought of it. 

The audacity of that man. Or, perhaps, bravery. Well, whatever it was, it was incredibly infuriating. 

He took a step backward. 

“I suppose that is  _ one _ way of putting it, yes. Though, ‘alliance’ isn’t quite the right term. It would be an alliance, I think, in the same way a marriage covenant is.” 

He was stunned. It took him a while to say anything. 

“...I don’t follow,” he said. It was all he could think to say. 

“I remarked a moment ago that I am a man who knows  _ exactly _ what he wants, and that I know  _ exactly _ how to get it. My dear Bram,” he stroked the back of his finger down the Professor’s cheek. “You are what I most desire.” 

He swallowed a lump in his throat, and tried not to lean too much into the Count’s touch, but he loved the icy cold feeling of it. It had been so long since anyone had touched him so tenderly. 

Dracula may have leaned in first, but it was ultimately Bram who closed the gap between them, and they both knew it. He pulled away first, too, unsure about what he was doing, and what he just  _ did _ , but he did know that it was the most wonderful thing he had done in a long time, and if anyone found out about it, he’d surely be locked away the same as Renfield. 

“My dear Professor,” the Count said, eyebrow cocked slightly, and eyes nearly black from dilated pupils. “I didn’t know you could kiss like that.” 

He shrugged, sheepishly, and he could feel his cheeks darkening. If he had had any common sense he would have ran off then and there, he thought. But he couldn’t. Something was keeping him rooted to the spot. 

Perhaps it was that Dracula was now undoing his coat. 

It took only a few moments for him to be done with the task, which was a bit surprising considering all of the buttons involved. Underneath, the Count’s white shirt was branded with just a drop of blood, on his left forearm. He knew what it meant, but under the circumstances he didn’t care. He couldn’t bring himself to. 

Dracula, a bit to his surprise, took a few steps to the right, and put said black coat directly on the ground. 

“Lay down,” he commanded, gesturing to the coat. He couldn’t resist -- didn’t want to, not really. So he didn’t.

In a moment, Dracula was on top of him, straddling his hips, and pinning his hands above his head, and despite the coat covering most of the ground, he found the backs of his hands and most of his legs still touched the damp earth. He could smell the dirt, soft, and sweet. 

The Count pressed a kiss to his lips. His kisses were slow, but earnest, at first, though they quickly gained passion. Dracula started with Van Helsing’s lips, but soon started moving down to his jaw, and eventually landed on his neck. Bram was unused to...well, any of it, really. He didn’t know how he should have felt about it -- not exactly, anyways -- but he did know how he really felt about it. 

It was  _ sublime _ . 

As the Count pressed his icy lips to his jugular vein, and his heart beat wildly in his chest, he looked up at the sky with half-lidded eyes. He couldn’t help but notice how lovely the full moon looked. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so. This is very late. I'm sorry about that. Life just,,,,ran me over. But I'm getting back on track! And because it was so late, I decided to make it a little longer, and a little more, uh, shall we say suggestive? at the end there, as a treat.   
> I actually really liked writing this one. I like the ones where they, yknow, actually interact and stuff more.   
> Also, me projecting my own religious trauma onto Van Helsing in this one? It's more likely than you think.


End file.
